


Seven Wardens:  A Tale of the Fifth Blight

by DominaMaris



Series: The Dragon Age Saga [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-07 08:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11620011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominaMaris/pseuds/DominaMaris
Summary: Seven Origins, 7 Wardens.  An alternative tale of the Fifth Blight.  The bonds of fifteen former strangers in a world under threat.  Friendship, romance, intrigue (because politics).  Part 1 of my Dragon Age Timeline.  (Alternative Universe, whatever, some canon tweaks).  Enjoy!!!





	1. Last Light

Rosemary Cousland

Highever

August 20th, 9:30 Dragon

 

         

Rosemary contemplated the chaos before her as she stepped into the courtyard of her family’s ancestral castle. Twitching the skirt of her dress in irritation, wishing for the freedom of her usual gear, she slipped through the mass of Cousland arms men and women preparing to head out the next day, nodding to those that noticed her.

She wondered why her father had summoned her, perhaps Howe’s men had been delayed, as her brother Fergus had speculated. An air of excitement tinged with worry had hung over Highever since the King’s message had come. No one knew much of what was going on, only that the feared Darkspawn had risen again. It had been four hundred years since the Fourth Blight, and though the Darkspawn had never fully retreated from the lands of Thedas, Fereldan had not seen their like in many generations. Faced with monsters from story and legend, no one knew quite what to believe. In fact, Rose had just returned from a trip to the local Highever book merchant in search of information, a search which had been largely unfruitful.

She sighed as she stepped into the entry, pondering if she would have enough time to dig through the library again. She heard the murmuring of voices as she approached the main hall, and picked out the warm timbre of her father’s voice, as well as the deep nasal tone of Arl Howe.

            “I trust then that your troops will be here shortly?” She heard her father ask, confirming both her and Fergus’s suspicions about the delay.

            “I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow. I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault.”

            “No, no. The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn’t it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself. I’ll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!”

Rose hung back a little, waiting for a break in the conversation. She also was more than a bit curious about her father’s old friend, Rendon Howe. He was not a tall man, perhaps half a foot shorter than her father. His hair was a steel grey, contrasting oddly with his amber eyes. There was a dark intenseness about him, though he was unfailingly polite. She watched him as he smiled wanly at her father.

            “True. Though we both had less grey in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not…monsters.”

            “At least the smell will be the same.” Her father laughed as she moved forward to meet them.

            “Ah! There you are pup; I didn’t see you. Howe, you remember my daughter?” He winked at her before turning back to their guest.

            “I see she’s become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear.” Howe bowed, eyeing her approvingly.

            “And you, Arl Howe” Rose replied, curtsying slightly. “Is your family with you?”

            “Oh no, I left them in Amaranthine, away from the fighting in the south. My son Thomas asked after you, perhaps I should bring him with me next time.”

            “I’d like that.” Rose said politely, though she doubted Thomas had changed much from the spoiled prankster she remembered.

            “Good! My son saw you at a Denerim fair and has talked about you ever since. He’ll be pleased you remember him.” Rose blinked in surprise, oh dear. She hoped that Howe wasn’t seriously hoping for a match between them. She didn’t exactly dislike Thomas, but she was not interested in marrying him in the least. She turned back to her father, who shook his head slightly.

            “At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are both away, I’m leaving you in charge of the castle.”

            “I’ll do my best, Father.” Rose answered, nodding in acknowledgment. She had expected as much, though she wished dearly to go with her brother and father.

            “Now, that’s what I like to hear.” He smiled at her, “Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep the peace. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?” Rose rolled her eyes inwardly, yet another one of her father’s sayings. At least the coming weeks looked to be a challenge, keeping order in Highever while it’s Teyrn and his heir fought the evil in the south. He turned and motioned to one of the door guards.

            “There’s also someone you must meet. Please…show Duncan in.” Rose watched with a mixture of surprise and interest as the strange man entered the main hall. He was tall and lean, with a dark golden complexion not common in Fereldan. He was dressed in formal armor, over a blue and silver tabard. As he approached she saw that a griffon was emblazoned on the front of the chest piece. That could only mean that he was a Grey Warden. Her interest sharpened, here was someone who could answer her questions about the darkspawn.

            “It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland.” He nodded to her father and Howe, then turned to her. She felt his appraisal, and met his gaze, his eyes twinkled back at her in approval.

            “Your Lordship, you didn’t mention that a Grey Warden would be present.” There was an odd note to Howe’s voice, clearly he had not expected another visitor.

            “Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?” Her father shot him a questioning look.

            “Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am…at a disadvantage.” Howe retreated into formality.

            “We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that’s true. Pup, you remember what Brother Aldous taught you about the Grey Wardens, I’m sure.”

            “They are an order of great warriors, they defeated the darkspawn long ago, during the time of King Calenhad.”

            “Not permanently, I fear.” Duncan smiled faintly, “As current events are proving.”

            “Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we’d had a chance to react.” Her father looked back at the Warden “Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he’s got his eye on Ser Gilmore.”

            “If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate.” Both Rose and her father looked at the man in surprise. Her father frowned and stepped in front of her.

            “Honor though that might be, this is my daughter we’re talking about.”

            “Is there a reason I shouldn’t join them?” She gave her father a suspicious look, he wasn’t usually this protective, there was something she didn’t know and that bothered her.

            “You did just finish saying that the Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend.” Howe gave him rare grin.

            “I’ve not so many children that I’ll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?” He continued frowning at the Grey Warden.

            “Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I’ve no intention of forcing the issue.” Duncan replied politely, clearly deciding not to press the issue. Satisfied, her father turned back to her.

            “Pup, can you ensure that Duncan’s requests are seen to while I’m gone?”

            “Of course.” She raised an eyebrow at him, a little tired of all the formality.

            “In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me.”

            “Where _is_ Fergus?” She had tried to find him earlier in the day, but he had been out getting some supplies for the trip south.

            “Upstairs in his chambers, no doubt, spending some last moments with Oriana and Oren.” Taking that as her cue to leave, she turned and headed toward one of the side doors. Her father reached out and paused her as she passed. “We’ll talk  
later” he whispered, and let her go.

            Rose stepped out into the warm afternoon air, away from the bustle of the front of the castle. She walked quickly towards the kitchen, hoping to check on dinner and perhaps get a snack before finding Fergus. She heard a clamor in the distance, and frowning looked up just in time of avoid bumping into Ser Gilmore as he hurried around the corner.

            “There you are! Your mother told me the Teyrn had summoned you, so I didn’t want to interrupt.” He ran his hand through his auburn hair, clearly ruffled. She grinned impishly up at her childhood friend.

            “Hello to you too, Ser Gilmore, why were you looking for me?”

            “Ha! Pardon my abruptness, Lady Rose. It’s simply that I’ve been looking all over for you.” He grinned back at her, “I fear your hound has the kitchens in an uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave.”

            “Oh dear, did Conri get into the larder again?” She sighed, wondering what her hound was up to this time. He almost always had a good reason for getting into mischief, just not one obvious to his human friends.

            “No matter how the maids try to keep him out, he always finds a way in. You know these mabari hounds. He’ll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off.”

            “You know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless I asked, Gil.” She commented, tilting her chin up, “I’d better go collect him then.”

            “That would be wise. Before Nan tears down the walls.” He paused, and then they both burst out laughing at the mental image that conjured.

“You’re quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say.” His grey eyes darkened slightly, remembering his deceased parent. “Of course, that means he’s easily bored.” He returned abruptly to the subject, “Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself. At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?” She laughed, and they strode off in unison.

            “To the kitchens then!”

            “Where is my mother exactly?” Rose asked as they headed down the passage that lead to the kitchens, the sound of Conri’s excited barks getting closer and more distinct.

            “She was entertaining Lady Landra and her son when I left her. Perhaps in the atrium? Err…before we go, my lady, might I beg a question? I’ve heard from several people that a Grey Warden is here. Is that true?” Rose paused, and turned to look at him. His face was a contrast of worry and excitement.

            “His name is Duncan. I met him. And do drop the ‘my lady’ Roland, you know I hate it.”

            “Then…is it also true this Grey Warden was asking after me?”

            “I’m not certain. Maybe.” She replied, crossing her arms and leaning back on one foot.

            “Maybe? Have mercy Rose! Is he asking after me or not?” He frowned at her with comical ferocity.

            “Just joking!” She laughed, “Yes, he wants to test you.” He let out his breath with a puff, a look of surprised wonder passing over his face.

            “Maker’s breath! Are you certain? Can you imagine? Me? A Grey Warden! It would be everything I’ve dreamed of!” His face fell, excitement dampened a bit. “Of course, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Pardon my outburst.”

            “Don’t worry so much Roland, I’m sure you’re up to anything he can throw at you.” She smiled at him as they moved on towards the kitchen door. “Just remember to write sometimes, won’t you?”

            “I will!” he replied, smiling back. As they reached the door to the main kitchen, the sound of barking and general ruckus rose. Roland raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to go in first.

            “Such bravery” she whispered as she pushed open the door and strode in. She was greeted by a scene of utter chaos, not unusual in the kitchen. Nan, once her nanny and now the head cook, had cornered two of the elven kitchen staff and was trying to get them to go see what was going on in the larder. It wasn’t working.

            “Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!” Nan faced the two elves, their backs to the larder door. Rose took a moment to remember their names, Adney and Cath, trainee cooks.

            “But, mistress! It won’t let us near!” Adney, complained, Cath shaking her head in agreement.

            “If I can’t get into that larder, I’ll skin both of you useless elves, I swear it!” Rose winked at them as she and Roland stepped forward.

            “Errr…calm down Mistress Nan, we’ve come to help.” Roland interjected, trying to keep a straight face.

            “You!” Nan turned to face him, then caught sight of Rose, “And you! Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!” She shook her finger for emphasis.

            “I’m sorry he’s bothering you, Nan.” Rose replied blithely. Nan narrowed her dark eyes at her former charge.

            “Just get him gone! I’ve enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers!” She turned back to the two hapless trainees.

            “You two! Stop standing there like idiots! Get out of the way!” They swiftly moved out of the way and Rose slipped into the cool, and usually quiet, larder.

            She was met with the sight of her large, ferocious mabari hound nose to ground and stubby tail waggling. Conri had been with her for almost five years now, though she had met him as a newborn puppy, a meeting which had prompted her father’s pet name for her, Pup. He was big, even for a mabari, fit and muscular. She eyed him as he lifted his head and barked at a bunch of flour sacks.

            Roland sighed, looking around at the stirred crates and fallen vegetables. “Look at the mess. How does he even get in here?” Rose, who had no idea, just shrugged. She crossed her arms and stared at her hound, who had turned at their entrance and stood proud, tail wagging enthusiastically. He barked emphatically, tilting his head towards one wall of the larder.

            “Are you trying to tell me something boy?” Rose asked, looking at the wall and back at her dog. He responded by barking an affirmative and spinning in a circle. Roland frowned, looking around.

            “He does seem to be trying to tell you something…wait, did you hear that?”

            There was a loud crash, then a large flurry as six rats as big as housecats emerged from the sacks of flour. They squeaked madly, red eyes glimmering in the dim light. Her hound’s presence must have stirred them into a frenzy, because they went straight for the mabari and the two humans. Rose drew her belt knife quickly, noticing Roland doing the same. Conri had already dealt with one rat, breaking its neck, and was in the process of catching another. Rose managed to kick one unconscious and deal with it, then threw her knife, hitting the other. She blinked in surprise, suddenly thankful for all the years of drilling with her mother. She turned and found Roland with two very dead rats at his feet. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

            “Giant rats? It’s like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell.” Roland said, shaking his head. “He must have chased them out of their holes. Looks like he wasn’t raiding the larder after all.” Conri gave him a wounded look, and barked indignantly.

            “It certainly looks that way” Rose replied, rubbing the hound’s head and staring around at the mess.

            Roland crouched down, holding one rat up by its tail. “These are rats from the Korcari Wilds. Best not tell Nan. She’s upset enough as it is.” Rose blinked, then frowned, perplexed.

            “How did rats from the Wilds get all the way up here? And why?” The Kocari Wilds were a vast expanse of unexplored swamp and forest bordering the south of Fereldan, occupied only by the often antagonistic Chasind and abounding with rumors of curses and witches. It was also over three hundred miles south of Highever. Roland just shook his head.

            “We’d better clean this mess before facing Nan again.” Rose nodded in agreement. Looking around, they decided to throw the rat corpses out the back-ventilation window, which opened onto a sheer cliff face. They tidied the rest of the mess as best they could, then returned to the kitchen. Nan and the two elven servants were back at work, and others had appeared, pitching in to help prepare for an unusually large company.

            “Well, seeing as you’ve got Conri well in hand, I’ll be on my way. I’m to help prepare for more of the arl’s men.” Roland said, looking at her. Rose nodded, and made shooing motions at him as she approached Nan. He grinned back, and trotted out the door, snatching one of yesterday’s bread rolls from a nearby basket. Nan turned around, brushing her hands on her apron. She glared at Conri, hands on hips.

            “There he is, as brazen as you please, licking his chops after helping himself to the roast no doubt!” Conri sat at attention and whined piteously.

            “Actually, he was defending the larder from rats. Big ones.” Rose replied calmly. Having also assured herself of the roast’s safety before they had left.

            “Wh-what? Rats?! Not the large grey ones?” interjected Cath, dropping the bowl of potatoes she was holding. “They’ll rip you to shreds!”

            “See? Now you’ve gone and scared the servants! I expect those filthy things are dead.” Nan replied, ever pragmatic.

            “My faithful hound made sure it’s safe” Rose grinned back, patting his head. “And I cleaned up the mess, yes.” anticipating Nan’s next question.

            Nan hmphed. Continuing to glower at the hound. “I bet that dog led those rats there to begin with.” Conri whined in protest, unleashing his most devastating skill, puppy eyes.

            “Oh, don’t even start with the sad eyes! I’m immune to your so-called charms.” Even as she said it, Rose could see the old nurse’s resolve crumble. At another piteous wine, she sighed, and pulled some wrapped bits of meat from her apron.

            “Here, then. Take these pork bits and don’t say that Nan never gives you anything! Bloody dog” A faint smile flashed across her usually stern face as the hound took them politely from her hand. He gobbled them up, the barked happily. She turned back to Rose.

            “Thank you my lady. Now we can get back to work.” She turned, hands on hips again, like a commander marshaling her forces. “That’s right, everyone, quit standing about!” she paused Rose with a hand as she turned to leave.

            “Thank you again for your help. Now if you’ll just hold on a moment, yes?” Not waiting for a reply, she returned to barking out orders. “Adney, get moving with those casks! And Cath, do you think you can serve that to the Teyrn with dirt from the floor all over it?” The two elves looked at each other and winced.

            “Miserable old bat.” Muttered Adney, hastily exiting with the casks.

            “Old bat, am I” Nan replied, ears as sharp as ever. “We’ve got to work double-time on supper! Sweep up the hearths, and no complaining!” Rose stifled a grin as Nan turned back to work.

            “Busy day?”

            “Just keeping order. That’s why your father keeps me on. The good Maker knows I needn’t take care of you anymore.” She gave her old charge a sideways look.

            “Thank you for coming to your old nanny’s rescue. That blasted hound is more trouble than he’s worth, he is.” She laughed lightly at Conri’s whine.

            “Don’t start with me! You’ve gotten all you’re getting today.” She turned to Rose, handing her a one of yesterday’s rolls, warm and dripping with butter.

            “And what about you my lady? Been keeping safe and well behaved I hope?”

            “Of course!” Rose replied, taking an overly large bite.

            “Good. I won’t have to remind you of the _Dog that Bit_ again, now will I?” referring to a story she had told Rose a least fifty times, growing up. She shook her head, making shooing motions with her hands.

  
            “Well, off you go then. Be sure to let your lady mother know that the larder situation has been solved”

            Rose turned towards the Castle atrium, licking the last of the butter from her fingers. She heard the hum of voices as she came near, and found her mother and her guests sitting and chatting in the late afternoon light.

            “…and my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year.” Her mother, Eleanor, was saying, indicating the fine set of chess on the table. “The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king!” She and Lady Landra giggled at the foolishness of drunk Orlaisians. The two were of an age, and good friends. Her mother stood as she approached, smiling a greeting at both her and Conri.

            “Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?” She bent to rub that ‘troublesome’ hound’s head.

            “Yes, mother. Nan is back at work as we speak.”

            “You’ve always had a way with her” She smiled at Rose. “Darling, you remember Lady Landra? Bann Loren’s wife?” Loren held lands to the southwest of Highever.

            “I think we last met at your mother’s spring salon.” Lady Landra was a tall, thin woman, fragile looking next to Rose’s mother’s strong, fit figure.

            “Of course! It is good to see you again, my lady.” Rose bobbed a slight curtsy, smiling.

            “You’re too kind, dear girl. Didn’t I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?” Rose grimaced internally, Lady Landra hadn’t been the only who had a marriageable son.

            “And made a very poor case for it, I might add.” The son in question interjected. He was tall and strong, with vibrant red gold hair. Rose supposed he was handsome, but guessed he was in the same boat as her, not ready for marriage yet. Or at least, hadn’t met the right person.

            “You remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married yet, either.” He rolled his eyes at his mother’s blatant comment.

            “Don’t listen to her. It’s good to see you again, my lady. You’re looking as beautiful as ever.” He bowed slightly, giving her an appreciative look.

            “Thank you.” Rose smiled, bobbing another curtsey.

            “And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona. Do say something my dear.” Landra introduced the small elven woman who had been standing quietly in the shadows.

            “It is a great pleasure, my lady. You are as pretty as your mother describes.” She said politely, giving Rose a deep curtsy.

            “You would think that would make it easier to make a match for her, not more difficult.” Eleanor sighed, looking at her daughter with a twinkle.

            “Perhaps your daughter simply has a mind of her own, your Ladyship. You should be proud.” Rose flashed him a surprised glance, perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

            “Proud doesn’t get me any more grandchildren.” Her mother sighed again, and Rose struggled not to burst out laughing at her ‘concerned noble mother’ act.

            “May I go now Mother?” She asked, hiding her grin.

            “Of course, darling. You have many things to do before Fergus and your father leave.”

            “I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear.” Said Lady Landra, who indeed looked weary and drawn. “Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper.”

            “Perhaps we’ll retire to the study for now.” Her son replied, nodding in understanding, and wandered off towards the library, Iona quietly trailing in his wake.

            “Good evening, your Ladyship.” Lady Landra curtseyed to Rose and her mother, then left, heading toward the guest quarters.

            “You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance.” Her mother said, watching her guest with a slightly concerned expression.

            “I have a bad feeling about all of this.” Rosemary said, looking directly at her mother, finally voicing the unspoken feeling that had been hanging over her all day.

            “As do I. Your father and brother are marching off to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don’t comfort me.” Eleanor replied, looking back at her daughter. Her face was clouded, green eyes worried. “But it wouldn’t help for us to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty, and we have ours.” The two nodded in agreement. Someone had to look after the people back home. Rather than leaving the Cousland women behind, her father had described it as ‘splitting their forces’.

            “Did you know there’s a Grey Warden here?” Rosemary asked, suddenly remembering.

            “Yes, your father mentioned that. I haven’t met him myself, yet.” She looked askance at Rosemary “You haven’t gotten it into your head that you want to be recruited?”

            “Father wouldn’t allow it.” Rose said, noncommittally.

            “Nor I. And I do realize you didn’t answer my question.” Her mother gave her a piercing look.

            “There’s enough here at the castle to occupy you. I don’t need you off chasing danger like your brother. Again.”

            “Are you staying at the Castle?” Rose changed the subject. Her mother let this pass, replying.

            “For a few days. Then I’ll travel with Lady Landra to her estate, and keep her company for a time. Your father thinks my presence here might undermine your authority.” She laughed.

            “As you wish.” Rose said, smiling.

            “Good. I was worried you might be nervous about running the castle alone. I needn’t have been concerned.” They laughed. Her mother knew full well that while Rose was nervous, she was also excited to test her independence.

            “Do you know where Fergus is?” She asked, double checking with the other parent.

            “If he’s not out with his men, probably upstairs with Oriana.” Rose turned to head off, but was suddenly enveloped in a motherly embrace.

            “I love you my darling girl. You know that, don’t you?” her voice was soft, muffled in her daughter’s dark red hair, the shade her own had been, long ago.

            “I love you too.” Rose hugged her mother back, both treasuring the fleeting moment of peace.

            “Off you go, then. I will see you soon.” Eleanor said, giving Rose’s hands a squeeze, then turned and headed the direction of the kitchen.


	2. Fond Farewell

 Rose smiled to herself as she walked into the castle library, perhaps her favorite place in all Highever. She winked as she passed two small boys languishing under the tutelage of Brother Aldous, who was ponderously expounding the history of her family. She swept past, quick enough so he didn’t have the chance to snag her as an assistant. She wove through the shelves, enjoying the familiar scent of the books, relaxing a way she only could here. She hopped up the steps to her grandfather’s old study, her own personal lair, slightly surprised when she saw it wasn’t deserted.

            “Hello again!” said Dairren, turning around and catching sight of her. “Your castle’s study is wonderful! Might I ask whose collection this is?” he said, face glowing with enthusiasm.

            “It was my grandfather’s, but I come here often to read” Rose replied, walking over to join him.

            “So would I!” he nodded “Do you have a favorite book?”

            “ _The Dragons of Tevinter_ by Brother Timious” she answered, curious to see what he would make of yet more unladylike tendencies.

            “Good choice!” he agreed excitedly. “Timious’ theory on the nature of dragons and how they connect to darkspawn is quite intriguing.”

  
Thrilled to have found a fellow dragon enthusiast, Rose and Dairren were locked in an animated discussion for quite a few minutes before she recalled the reason she had come in the first place. She excused herself reluctantly, promising to chat more at dinner. Turning back to the books, Rose worked swiftly through the section she hadn’t quite finished. Resigned, she stepped back, glaring at the shelves and shelves of old tomes. By the _Maker_ why weren’t the darkspawn well documented? They had threatened all of Thedas for nearly a millennium, someone must have written something down! Frustrated, she left the study, acknowledging Dairren’s wave as she passed him, his nose in another book.

Rose looked up as she emerged from the warmth of the library, slightly chilled in the early autumn air. She eyed the darkening sky, time to go find her brother. She turned and walked through the atrium into the family wing. It was quieter here, away from the activity of the rest of the castle. She passed the guest quarters quietly, catching a glimpse of the napping Lady Landra through a half open door. Closing the connecting door behind her, she ascended the stairs to the family suite, their home within a home. She smiled, hearing the light chatter of her young nephew, Oran.

“Is there really gonna be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward?” Rose turned the corner to see her five-year-old nephew jumping up and down. He was pulling on Fergus’ leg as the latter lounged on the settee in the common room.

“That’s ‘sword’ Oren.” Fergus replied, trying to disguise a laugh, “and I’ll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.” He let out an explosive breath as his son leapt up and barreled into his lap.

“I wish victory was really so certain. My heart is…disquiet.” Rose heard the concern in her sister-in-law’s voice as she entered the room. A native from Antiva, her Fereldan was usually excellent, that she had to search for the right word spoke volumes. Fergus gave his wife a warm smile as Rose shoved his legs off and sat down next to him on the settee.

“And here’s my little sister to see me off!” He grinned his impish grin at her, brown eyes laughing.

“Just let me know when you two are finished.” Rose replied blithely, as Oren tromped over and claimed her lap, swinging his legs.

“Ha! When there’s someone in your life, you’ll understand.” Fergus made doe eyes at her and fluttered his eyelashes. Rose rolled her eyes, grinning when she heard Oriana snort softly.

“I prefer my freedom, thank you.” she retorted, extracting her braid from her curious nephew’s fingers.

“One day you’ll meet someone who will stand with you. Mark my words.” Fergus’ face took on a more serious expression. Rose blinked, finding herself oddly comforted by those words. She turned and caught the worried expression on Oriana’s face.

“Do you really think the war will be over quickly?” Rose asked, turning back to Fergus, hoping to ease her sister-in-law’s fears. He sighed, sitting up from his slump and stretching.

“Word from the south is that the battles have gone well.” His expression became troubled, “There’s no evidence that this is a true Blight, just a large raid.” What he did _not_ say was that no one knew quite why the darkspawn would raiding Fereldan after centuries of being scarce.

“Could that be true?” Oriana asked, catching his reservations. Fergus sighed and smiled at her, standing up.

“I’ll see for myself soon enough,” he said, walking over and taking her hands to pull her to her feet. “Pray for me, love, and I’ll be back within a month or two.” He bent to kiss her, and Rose turned away, cheeks reddening slightly.

Fergus turned back to Rose, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

“Well, sister dear? I’m guessing father has made his decision by now?” Rose stood, nodding in conformation.

“Father wants you to leave without him.”

“Then the arl’s men _are_ delayed.” Fergus sighed, running his hand through his dark hair. “You’d think his men were all walking backwards.” Rose offered a wry expression.

“Yes, well.” She looked at Oriana, “I think he has time for dinner, don’t you?” Fergus laughed, and put his arm around his wife.

“Since I’m sure to be enjoying the hospitality of the wilds for the next few months, I agree fervently!” Oriana laughed and took his hand, then cast about for her son.

“Oren!” she called. “Where did he go off to?”

“Coming mama!” a small voice cried from his parents’ quarters.

“Did you know there’s a Grey Warden in the castle?” Rose asked them, just as Oren came pelting through their door and into her.

“Really?! Was he riding a griffon?” he asked eagerly, clinging to her and looking up with round grey eyes.

“Calmly, Oren. Griffons only exist in stories now.” Oriana interjected, looking at her son with amused exasperation.

“I’d heard that. Did he say why he’s come?” Fergus asked, looking at Rose, his sharp interest mirroring hers.

“Apparently, he’s going to test Ser Gilmore,” she replied blandly.

“Good for him! I hope he makes it,” Fergus said smiling, though his face creased in an expression Rose couldn’t quite read. He turned and looked at her intently, “If I were a Grey Warden, though, I’d have my eye on you-not that father would ever allow it.” Rose blinked at him curious.

“Allow? I’m nineteen.” She eyed him, frowning. Fergus just shrugged, turning to lead them all downstairs to dinner. Rose’s frown deepened, both her brother and her father were being oddly protective about this. So far, she had expressed no interest in becoming a Grey Warden. What had them so worried? That was certainly something she would have to think about, but later. She turned to look down at her nephew, holding out her hand.

“Ready to go eat, imp?” she asked, smiling. Oren grinned, his expression a twin to her brother’s in a puckish mood. He held out a small cylinder of wood, a crude spiral carved into it.

“Here, Auntie Rose! Papa showed me how to carve today!” Rose took it in surprise, seeing that Fergus had threaded it on a leather cord to make a necklace.

“Thank you, Oren, I shall treasure it!” She slipped it over her head, Oren preening proudly as she settled it in to place. Then he grabbed her hand and started pulling her downstairs, eager to get to the food at last.

They caught up to his parents, just as Oren asked.

“Mama says you’re going to be watching over us while papa is gone. Is that true, Auntie?”

“Yes, that’s true, Oren.”

“What if the castle is attacked? Will there be dragons?!” Rose raised her eyebrows at his eager expression.

“Dragons are terrible creatures, Oren. They eat people.” Oriana said, looking back at her son, then glancing at Rose in amusement.

“Yeah! I want to see one!”

“This is your influence Fergus.” Oriana said, nudging him gently in the ribs, and Rose grinned behind his back.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” he said in injured innocence.

“Are you going to teach me to use a sword, Auntie? Oren asked, “Then I can fight evil, too!” letting go of her hand and looking back at her with pleading eyes. She laughed and nodded. He raced ahead of them all, gesturing with an invisible sword at imaginary enemies.

“Take that, dire bunny! All darkspawn fear my sword of truthiness!”

Rose looked at Oriana.

“Truthiness?” she inquired, giggling.

“We’re teaching him about honesty,” her sister-in-law replied, shrugging. Rose shook her head, wondering what on Thedas a dire bunny was supposed to be. Continuing to listen to Oren’s lively chatter, they walked on to dinner.

 

The hall was full of life and conversation as Rose sat at the high table with her family. Her mother had seated Dairren next to her, and they spent most of the meal immersed in an intense discussion about dragons. Her father was at the center of the table, as Teyrn of Highever. Her mother Eleanor was at his right hand, next to Arl Howe. Rose could just hear her mother and the Lady Landra lightly interrogating Arl Howe about his family. Fergus was at Father’s left hand, as was custom, his eyes dancing with amusement. He was watching Duncan talk to Gil, who looked like he was going to die of nervousness. Oriana could barely be seen trying to get Oren to use proper table manners on the far end from Rose.

“Do you know anything about the Grey Wardens?” she asked Dairren, hoping he may have come across something in his own studies.

“No more than anyone else,” he replied “Is it true there’s one here, in the castle? Have you met him?” He sounded as excited as Gil had.

“It’s true, I’ve met him.” Rose said, and quietly pointed Duncan out.

“I’d join the Grey Wardens in a heartbeat. Can you imagine? Destroying the darkspawn forever, becoming a hero…” his eyes took on a faraway look, a longing that Rose recognized. He sighed, returning to the present “But I’d never gain a Grey Warden’s notice. I’ll have to be happy under your father’s command.”

“So, you’re going to be riding with my father tomorrow?” Rose asked, curious.

  
“Yes, though I don’t know when. I will leave when your father does” He grinned slightly, turning back to her. “I’ll ride as his second, a glorified squire, more-or-less. I’ll care for his horse and armor and such. It’s quite an honor.” He didn’t sound all that thrilled. Rose hid a smile, he was in for a shock with her father, he was a very through teacher.

After dinner Rose accompanied Fergus as he went to the stables and prepared to set out with his company. Conri, returning from his own meal in the kennels, gamboled around them, chasing moths in the dim evening light.

“You’ll be missed, brother,” Rose said quietly as Fergus led his warhorse, Cynbel, out to join his company at the castle gates.

“If it’s any consolation,” he replied, a smile in his voice, “I’m sure I’ll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe.”

“I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband.” Oriana appeared, Oren tagging sleepily behind her.

“I wish I could go with you.” Rose said wistfully, though she knew it was impossible.

“I wish you could come!” Fergus said, gathering her in a great bear hug, “It’ll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself.” She laughed, tearing up a little as he slapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Well, I’d better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time!” he said, turning to his wife and son.

 “I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait before taking your leave?” Bryce and Eleanor emerged out of the evening mist, as the family gathered for a last farewell. Wordlessly, Bryce Cousland embraced his son, their foreheads touching, warriors sending each other off to battle. The Teyrn moved back, allowing his wife to step forward.

“Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone.” Eleanor hugged Fergus fiercely, then held his face in between her hands, memorizing every detail.

“Fergus will be fine.” Rose said, putting her arm around her mother’s waist as she stepped back. The stood in silence for a few moments before Oren, ever on the go, leapt into his father’s arms.

“I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me.” Fergus said, laughing and tickling his son, then ruffling his hair as he set him back down.

 “I’ll miss you, Mother dear. You’ll take care of her, Sister, won’t you?” he asked Rose, winking.

“You can count on me.” she replied, saluting extravagantly. Eleanor crossed her arms and eyed her two children, who were both grinning ear-to-ear back at her.

“Oh, good. How thrilling to know I’m so well taken care of,” she said sarcastically, a hint of amusement touching her voice.

“Enough, enough,” Bryce said, smiling at all of them, “Pup, you’ll want to get an early night. You’ve much to do tomorrow.” He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. Then turned to talk with Fergus’ company as Teyrn. Rose turned and found Fergus grinning at her.

“Getting sent to bed early, are we?”

“Have fun on the long march. In the cold.”

“Hmmm. A warm bed doesn’t sound so bad now, come to think of it.” He laughed and patted her head, mussing her hair.

  
“Heh. At any rate, I’ll miss you Rose. Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back.” He looked at her, emphasizing his last words. Then he turned away to join their father in addressing the company.

Soon, her family stood together, waving as Fergus rode off into the distant twilight, south to West Hill and through the Bannorn to Fort Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds. As they walked back through the castle gates, Rose caught up with her father, Conri trailing behind her. He glanced at her, smiling faintly.

“You should be on your way, pup. Long day ahead tomorrow.”

“Is sending all of our forces south a good idea?” Rose asked, voicing the question that had been on her mind ever since they had received the king’s message.

“When the king demands it. Not sending our forces would be a distinctly bad idea.” She frowned. He had not actually given her a complete answer. King Cailan was only two years on the throne, and had yet to prove himself as a war leader. Rose wondered if he would always be overshadowed by the accomplishments of his father, Maric. She didn’t envy his position in the least. Bryce noticed her frown, then reached out and tucked her arm in his.

“Don’t worry, pup. You shouldn’t see many problems. But I want you to prepare those left here. In case.”

“In case of what?” Rose asked, though she thought she knew.

“Legends of the Blights tell of horrible things. These darkspawn once threatened many lands. If we can’t hold them…you must prepare for the worst.” Rose shivered, chilled by the thought.

“I’ll do my best, Father, I swear it,” she promised, her voice clear, echoing quietly from the stone walls.

“I know you will. You are a Cousland, after all.” He patted her arm, then sighed. “But let’s not speak of ominous things. We shall assume that all will go well and the Maker will watch over us.” They stopped together in the atrium and Rose finally asked:

 “About this Grey Warden…”

“Ah. I was wondering how long this would take.” Her father said, running his hand worriedly through his grey hair.

“Has he asked to recruit you?”

“He hasn’t,” Rose shook her head, “I was just curious about him.” Her father sighed, looking up at the two moons, crescents hanging in the silent night sky.

“If a Blight is truly upon us in the south, then Grey Wardens will be needed. There is no higher calling.” He glanced down, then gave Rose a searching look. “If it comes to that, we can talk about it when I get back. Until then, just show him every courtesy. Duncan is a fine man, and a hero.” Rose gave an acknowledging nod.

 “Are you _sure_ you’ll be all right?” she asked, worry obvious in her voice. Her father took her shoulders, looking directly into her eyes.

“Your brother and I go into battle, not an afternoon tea. Who knows what will happen to us?” He reached up and touched her cheek, much as he had done ever since she was a little girl, and probably even before that.

“I will tell you, however: you’re my precious daughter. I love you, and I trust you completely to carry on if the worst should happen.” He smiled then, and Rose saw the glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“But don’t worry about me, dear girl. You’ll have enough to occupy your mind while I’m gone.” Rose smiled back and nodded. She hugged him goodnight, kissing his cheek and stepping back.

“I’ll go now.”

  
“I know that you’ll do me proud,” he said, then turned back into the main hall to coordinate the next day’s march with Arl Howe.

Looking up at the clear starry sky, Rose knew she should be getting to bed. Nevertheless, light from the small Chantry chapel drew her feet forward. Though her family had never been particularly devout, Mother Mallol was a trusted member of the household, someone who would listen in silence to worries unvoiced to others. Rose rather suspected that the Chantry had placed her here because of her slightly radical views. She had once witnessed the Mother stare down Templars escorting a new mage with rough hands, a small boy. Even the Templars, with their implacable expressions and hard eyes had been shamed before Mallol’s searing gaze.

Smiling at this memory as she walked into the quiet chapel, Rose saw Mallol kneeling at the statue of Andraste at the head of the nave. The flame of the torches flickered in the tall glass windows that looked out over the port of Highever. Mother Mallol stood, sensing Rose, and turned with a gentle smile. She was a small middle aged woman, built short and compact, and beloved by all in the Castle. Her deep brown eyes twinkled at Rose,

“Have you come to pray for your brother and father? I’d be happy to ask for the Maker’s blessings with you.” The Mother asked, gesturing Rose to join her.

“I would appreciate that, Mother Mallol.”

“Please, child. Call me ‘Mallol,” she said, winking at Rose. “I’ve known you since you were a wee babe, after all.” They knelt, side by side, and Rose listened while Mallol quietly recited some of the Chant of Light.

“ _And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.”_ They sat together, praying for loved ones in the warm silence of the torch’s light.

“There now,” said Mallol, as Rose reached down to help her stand, “I’ll be keeping a vigil tonight.” She hugged Rose lightly, then turned back to Andraste, praying for all the people who would be affected by the conflict to come.

 

Rose yawned as she and Conri entered the family wing. A cheerful warmth was emanating from the guest floor common room, the elven lady-in-waiting Iona was sitting quietly by the fire, mending by its warm glow. She looked up when Rose entered, her face breaking into pleasure when she saw Conri.

"That is a wonderful dog!" Iona reached down and patted him politely on the head.

“He seems very noble and intelligent.” She commented, she and Rose laughing gently when Conri preened at this compliment.

"Greetings once again, my lady" Iona said, bobbing a curtsey. Rose smiled and sat down in the other chair across from her, and the elven woman sat again, continuing her work.

"I haven't seen many elven ladies-in-waiting." Rose commented, watching Iona work deftly with needle and thread on the delicate spider-work of a fine lace trim.

"Lady Landra has been very good to me. I am lucky." Iona looked up at Rose, eyes cautiously curious. "If I may…I see that you have no ladies-in-waiting. Is this usual for a noblewoman of your rank?" Rose blinked, surprised at the question, then realizing that she really shouldn’t have been. There were currently only two Teyrn’s daughters in all Fereldan, and the other one was the Queen Anora who no doubt had many ladies-in-waiting.

"Maybe a little. I've never needed one." Rose replied honestly.

"That is a very Fereldan attitude, I think, to be so self-sufficient." They sat a few seconds in silence before Rose ventured her own question.

"How did you come to know Lady Landra?"

Iona smiled gently. "My family has been in service to hers for many years," she replied, hands still moving skillfully on her mending. "Lady Landra elevated my place as a reward for our loyalty. I hope this position might pass to my daughter."

"You have a daughter?" Rose asked, interested.

"Forgive me; I shouldn't have mentioned her." Iona said, suddenly worried.

"No, no! It's quite alright!" Rose exclaimed, hoping that she had not offended the elven lady.

"Her…name is Amethyne,” Iona said tentatively, her eyes meeting Rose’s for the first time, luminous in the shadow of the fire. “Her father died of a wasting sickness two years ago." Sorrow making her seem younger even than Rose.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Rose said, meaning it.

"Thank you. He is with the Maker now." They sat in companionable silence before Rose caught her herself yawning. She stood up, stretching.

"Good evening!" she said to Iona, “Thank you for your time.” Iona looked up, surprised, and nodded politely to Rose.

"Farewell, my lady."

Rose slowly took the stairs to the family quarters, yawning. It really _had_ been a long day. Conri yawned too, as if agreeing with her. Rose went drowsily though her nightly ablutions, and then fell into bed. She fell asleep quickly, her mind sailing into the world of dreams.


	3. Darkness Falls

Highever

August 21st, 9:30 Dragon

            Rose woke abruptly, a chilly dog nose in her face. She looked around, nothing but pale moonlight was coming through her slit of a window. She heard Conri growl softly, and move to her door, taking up a defensive stance. Standing stock still, she heard movement, as if someone was trying to break through one of the doors that lead to the family common room. She went into silent action, and moving to her clothes chest, hastily dressed. Listening to whatever was going on outside, she quickly pulled on her leather training armor, which was thankfully close at hand. Conri rumbled softly again, eyes glimmering in the dark, looking at her for direction. Rose nodded at him, and grabbed her daggers from the table next to the chest. She moved to one side of the door, listening hard.

Suddenly, she could hear the rush of unmuffled feet on stone, and her door burst open. She had just enough time to identify Burton, one of the household servants, before he dropped in her doorway, an arrow in his back. Fighting her sudden rush of adrenaline, she stayed in place, waiting. She heard shuffling feet and murmurs as what sounded like two people approached the door to her chamber. Hearing a weapon being unsheathed, she tensed. Signaling Conri, he started barking loudly, while remaining in the room. The two men rushed in through the door and she moved out behind them. Conri charged the first, even as Rose was behind the second. She acted, the years of training coming into play. She kicked the back of his knees, unbalancing him, then struck, piercing his heart and instantly killing him. She could hear Conri’s deep snarl as the man he’d charged struggled to free his leg from bone crushing jaws. She used this distraction, dashing towards him, ducking his flailing sword and slashing his exposed side. He cried out and unbalanced, fell to the ground. Conri leapt on him, holding him down as Rose brought her second dagger down, pushing it deep into the man’s chest with both hands.

            Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Rose fell back and stared at the carnage. She down at the men she had killed, Howe’s men. Her mind seemed distant, detached as if everything was in slow motion. Conri nudged her and she started moving, running out the door and nearly crashing into her mother.

            “Rose! I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst!” Eleanor hugged Rose swiftly, then pulled back, green eyes searching “Are you hurt?” Startled, Rose looked at her blood covered armor, then back up at her mother.

            “I’m fine!” she replied, shaking her head to clear it. “What’s going on?!” Glancing at her mother, she saw that she also equipped, a long coat of chainmail pulled over her leathers.

            “A scream woke me up,” Eleanor said, looking around, her voice strong but shaken. “There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Did you see their shields?”

            “Those are Howe’s men!” Rose said in a low voice, “Why would they attack us?!”

            “I don’t know, but we need to get out of here.” Eleanor eyed her daughter up and down, then nodded with approval.

            “Have you seen your father?” she asked Rose as they moved toward the door connecting to the family common room now splintered open. “He never came to bed.”

            “Maybe he stayed up with Arl Howe.” Rose suggested, voice suddenly tight in her throat.

            “We must find him!” Her mother said, voice harsh with worry.

            “We should check on Oriana and Oren, as well.” Rose said, uneasy in the silence.

            “Andraste’s mercy!” Eleanor cried, stricken, “What if the soldiers went into your brother’s room first!?” They glanced at each other, then dashed into the family common room, Conri at their heels.

            “Let’s check on them! Quickly! Then we’ll look for Bryce downstairs!”

            Rose followed her mother closely, crossing the disarrayed common room, reaching the door to Fergus’ suite. It was open, not splintered, and Rose’s heart raced as they passed on to the main bedchamber at the end of the hall. Listening, they could hear no sound. Her mother abruptly stopped, frozen. Rose’s heart lurched, and she peered over her mother’s shoulder and into the room.

            Time stopped, the scene before them carving itself into her mind’s eye, crystal clear. Dark blood pooled on the floor and across the large bed. A figure, no, Oriana, lay at the foot, her dagger out, poisoned tip oily in the moonlight. Oren’s small body was huddled in the center of the bed, scalp bloody where he had been struck. Two men lay dead at Oriana’s feet, one grasping a sword that was still slick with her blood. They had not died peacefully, their faces frozen in shock and pain.

            The spell broke as Rose’s mother screamed, a feral sound, full of loss and rage. She raced to Oren’s lifeless body, holding him, checking again and again for breath. Rose, right behind, collapsed to her knees when she saw him hang limply from Eleanor’s arms. The world seemed to press in on her, tight across her chest. Later, she realized she must have been screaming as well.

            “No, no, no!” Eleanor cried, holding Oren, rocking back and forth. “What manner of _monster_ slaughters innocents?!” She pressed her forehead to his, rocking, rocking.

            Rose stared, stumbling to her feet, and then fell again beside her mother, supported by Conri. Tears burned from her eyes, like two trails of fire down her cheeks. She reached out and touched Oren’s still face, and heard her hound moan softly beside her.

            “Why?!” The cry tore from her mouth, echoing in the white silence of her mind. Eleanor stood, silent now, tears running down her face. She gently laid Oren on the bed, carefully brushing the hair back from his pale face. Then she turned, green eyes emerald hard.

  
            “Howe is not even taking hostages.” She reached out and grasped Rose’s arm, “He means to kill all of us.” Rose felt the cold certainty of her mother’s words. Pushing her pain and rage down, she wiped her eyes roughly, and followed her mother out, leaving that room of sorrow behind.

            They went softly down the stairs to the guest quarters, watchful. She heard Eleanor inhale sharply, and guessed what was down there. The fire in the common room was low, and in the dim light it offered she saw Iona, the elven lady-in-waiting. Her body had fallen across the lovely trim she’d been working so hard on earlier. _Her daughter_ Rose thought, _what will her daughter do now?_

Knowing they could not linger, Rose moved quickly over to Dairren’s room. She spotted him, sword out, crumpled against his open door. Blank eyes, once that lively blue now sightless, blood trickling from his open mouth. Rose shut her eyes, willing herself to move on. She looked over at her mother as she emerged from Lady Landra’s room, shaking her head, face grim, eyes in pain. Without speaking, they moved together to the large door that lead out into the atrium.

“Can you hear the fighting?” Eleanor whispered across to Rose, as they flanked the door, “Howe’s men must be everywhere.”

            “What should we do?” Rose whispered back, and saw her mother frown, thinking.

            “The front gates,” her mother decided, “That’s where your father must be.” The sound of battle echoed distantly of the atrium walls.

            “Is there nothing more we can do?” Rose asked, frustrated.

            “I have my treasury key,” Eleanor suggested, “We could go there first and take the Cousland sword from the vault.”

            “What good is a single sword going to do!?”

            “If anything is worth fighting to keep out of Howe’s hands, it’s that sword. He loses it and his victory is lessened.” Rose scowled, but nodded reluctantly.

            “Let’s go to the treasury, then.” They had started to move through the atrium when Eleanor reached out and grabbed Rose’s wrist.

            “If Howe’s men are inside, they must already control the castle. We must use the servants’ entry in the larder to escape. Do you hear me?” she said urgently, bringing her face close to Rose’s.

            “I hear you.” Rose nodded minutely, eyes never leaving her mothers.

  
            “Then let us be swift.”

As they headed down the steps from the atrium they heard yelling and running feet. A servant, one of the stable boys, came careening around the corner, shouting.

“The castle has fallen! The castle has fallen!” Rose moved forward and caught the panicking man. Searching her mind for his name.

            “Hardwin!” she yelled, jolting him out of his wide-eyed terror. “Stand and fight if you want to survive!” He stared at her blankly, then looked down at the dagger she had pushed into his hand.

            “Y-yes, my lady!” he said voice still shaking. He turned, looking back the way he had come, then yelled. “Here…here they come!”

Rose swore and pulled him back. She and her mother exchanged looks and Eleanor hauled the servant into the shadow of the passage wall. Rose crouched, listening, _one, two…no three._ She tensed, anticipation pulling taught. She rolled out just as the three soldiers charged around the corner, managing to trip two of them and setting the third slightly off balance. Using her momentum, she turned, striking out at the unprotected back of his knee. He fell, scream cut off as she sliced his throat.

Eleanor had surprised the second, moving up behind him as he tried to regain his feet with Conri harassing him, barking. Her blades struck in quick succession, neck, arms, chest, and he was also down. Hardwin, still trembling like a leaf, let out a blood-curdling scream and charged the third, slamming into him, dagger held low. They fell together, and Rose heard a sharp crack as the soldier was propelled into the wall. He slumped, unconscious, and Hardwin stabbed down into his chest.

Rose and Eleanor pulled him up, whisking around the corner and turning toward the castle treasury. The iron bound door showed no sign of tampering, Rose guessed Howe’s forces must be leaving it for after they took the castle.

            “Use this key.” Eleanor said rapidly. “That blade cannot fall into Howe’s hands.” Rose nodded and turned to the lock, Eleanor and Conri guarding her back, Hardwin leaning against a wall and panting. The door sounded too loud as the many latches released, and she swung it open and slipped inside. She ran through the unlit room, scanning about her for anything useful. She grabbed the leather pouch her father kept there for long nights of accounting, fastening it quickly to her belt. Reaching up above his desk, she retrieved the ancient Cousland sword from its place of prominence. The blade was over 500 years old, and was said to have belonged to Bann Sarim, the first Cousland ever to hold Highever. Without stopping it, Rose rapidly strapped the sheath to her back. She rushed back towards the open door, stopping briefly to replace the dagger she had given Hardwin. Eleanor nodded as Rose emerged, seeing the sword secured. Together, mother and daughter pushed the door closed. Rose relocked it, hoping that would delay and annoy Howe’s men. Eleanor turned to Hardwin, grasping his shoulders and speaking in a rapid undertone.

  
            “You must escape, do you hear me?” She turned to Rose “Give him the treasury key, love. He can get it away from here.” Hardwin gasped, then nodded firmly. Rose watched as he hid the key within his smock, wishing him good luck with all her heart. He ran, a long-legged lope up towards the stables and disappeared. Rose and Eleanor watched him go, praying that Howe’s men were too busy fighting to notice the lad.

They heard pitched combat going on within the Great Hall. Together, they sped up, and burst through a side door and into the room. Within, the remaining Cousland guards and knights fought a contingent of Howe’s forces. Rose saw Roland’s auburn head amid the fray. _Alive! He’s alive!! Thank the Maker!_ Scanning the scene of chaos, the two humans and the hound entered the tumult of battle. Ducking in and around flailing arms and falling bodies, Rose swept through their ranks. She struck constantly, moving amid the mass of men and women almost like a dancer, striking targets of opportunity. She glimpsed her mother doing the same, the Seawolf of song incarnate. Again, and again, Rose sliced at Howe’s men, until none were left. She heard the slam as the remaining Cousland force closed and barred the way the main door, and looked around for Ser Gilmore. Bodies were strewn all over the hall, both Howe and Cousland. She heard Roland before she saw him.

            “Go! Man the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!” He stood close to the barred door, directing the survivors out toward the main castle gate. He reeled around when Rose called out to him, relief then concern flashing over his face.

            “Your Ladyship! My lady!” He rushed forward, hugging them quickly. “You’re both alive! I was certain Howe’s men had gotten through!”

            “They did get through” Rose said quietly, voice breaking.

            “They killed Oriana, and Oren.” Eleanor stared down at her gloved hands, “I can’t believe…. Are you injured?” She scanned Roland up and down, checking for wounds.

            “Don’t worry about me.” He smiled wanly at the Teyrna, “Thank the Maker you two are unharmed.” They briefly bent together, taking comfort in the moment of shared sorrow.

“Have you seen father?” Rose asked, glancing around, hoping beyond hope that she would not see him among the dead. Conri came up beside her, gently butting his head against Roland.

“He was looking for you two,” Roland replied, “He told us to hold the hall as long as possible.” He caught his breath, running his hand across his forehead, the smeared blood like war paint in the flickering torchlight. Noticing that the Grey Warden was not among those present, Rose asked.

“Have you seen the Warden Duncan?” Roland shook his head, “I’ve not seen him, nor the recruit that came with him. When I realized what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. They won’t keep Howe’s men out long.” Even as he said it, distant thumping began to echo from the direction of the main gates. “You must get out! Quickly!”

            Rose wanted to argue, wanted to scream that she would stay and help defend the door, or command Roland to come with them. But she couldn’t. She could see that he needed to stay here that the men needed him, that her remaining behind would not delay the inevitable. Frustrated she glared up her childhood friend, helpless tears pricking at her eyes. She banished them with a force of will, turning as her mother asked.

            “Do you know where Bryce went?”

            “When I last saw the Teyrn, he’d been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you.” Roland pointed at the side door that was across from where Rose and her mother had entered.

“He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants’ exit in the larder.” Eleanor nodded,

“Bless you, Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you!” she held him briefly then turned to go. Rose stared up at her old friend, her first friend, sometimes her only friend. She reached out and gripped his arm in parting.

            “You’d better survive, Roland Pryce Gilmore. Maker watch over you.” She followed her mother, hearing his whisper behind her.

  
            “Maker watch over us all.”

            Smoke billowed as they ran across and down the corridor that lead to the kitchen. Rose hoped that at least some of the servants had made it out before Howe’s men had decided to set the castle ablaze. She felt the weight of the Cousland sword on her back, the press of generations. The kitchen door was half open, hanging off one hinge and swaying drunkenly in the disturbed air. Eleanor motioned for Rose to stay back and quietly peeked in. Her eyes widened a fraction, but she gestured Rose to follow her in.

            The kitchen was in chaos, bowls, plates, utensils, and even leftover food flung everywhere. Among the carnage, Rose could see bodies. Nan lay propped up against one of the large tables. Blood was still leaking from several wounds on her chest, her once fiery eyes clouded over in death. She had not gone down without a fight it appeared, for a dead man in Howe arms lay flung across the table opposite, head smashed in. From the bloody cast iron skillet at Nan’s right hand, Rose could guess who had dealt that blow. Adney, the trainee cook, lay to one side of Nan, a big kitchen knife in his hand, deep in the chest of the man fallen on top of him. There was no sign of the other trainee cook, Cath. Rose hoped that she had had enough time to escape. Reaching down, she gently closed Nan’s eyes, whispering a sad goodbye. Looking up, she saw her mother was at the pantry door, waving her over. It had been barred from the outside with an upturned bench. Together, mother and daughter moved it and ran in, scanning the room for the Teyrn.

            “There...you both are.” Rose turned to see her father, lying against the same sacks of flour the rats had emerged from, only yesterday. His hand was pressed to his side, blood soaking the cloth around it. Conri rushed over and started licking Bryce’s face, whining.

            “I was…wondering when you would get here.” He said, with a weak grimace, patting the hound on the head.

            “Bryce!!!” Eleanor hurried over to her husband, flinging herself down next to him.

            “Maker’s blood, what happened?!” She moved his hand aside to look at the wound, paling.

            “Howe’s men...found me first. Almost…did me in right there.”

            “Why...?” Rose heard her voice ask. Bryce’s eyes darkened in pain and anger.

            “He can’t…get away with this! The king will…” Bryce gasped as Eleanor probed the wound.

            “Bryce! We must get you out of here!” Her glance to was fraught with worry and Rose looked around for anything to help staunch the bleeding.

            “I…I won’t survive the standing, I think.”

            “Then we will stay and defend you.” Rose cried, tears slipping unheeded down her face.

            “Once Howe’s men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!” Eleanor said grabbing the rough sack Rose handed her.

            “Someone…must reach Fergus…tell him what has happened.” The Teyrn struggled for breath, the wound must have hit a lung.

            “Howe must have something planned for him, too!” Rose blinked, realizing that she had said that aloud. She rummaged through the various herbs, hoping to find something that might help her father’s pain.

            “Bryce, no! The servants’ passage is right here! We can flee together, find you healing!” Rose heard her mother’s voice break.

            “The castle is surrounded…I cannot make it.” The Teyrn said, reaching up and pulling his wife’s blood stained hand away from the wound. Rose turned and stared down at him in horror, needing his words to be untrue, even though she knew in her very core that he was right.

            Hearing the pantry door open once again, the three Couslands snapped to attention. Through the haze of smoke strode Duncan, the Grey Warden. Blood covered his breastplate, sheathing his weapons. Behind him, Rose glimpsed another figure, tall and rangy, dressed in what looked like Circle robes.

            “I’m afraid the Teyrn is correct.” Duncan said, his hair dark with sweat as he removed his helmet, “Howe’s men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult.”

            “Commander Duncan,” Eleanor bowed her head in relief, “And this is…?” she asked, eyeing the second man as he came forward. He was indeed dressed in the robes of the Circle, those of a full Mage, though they appeared worse for wear at the moment. His hair was dark, his eyes a clear and piercing blue.

            “Yes, your Ladyship. The Teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner.” Duncan gestured at the younger man, “This is Mage Amell, a talented recruit from the Circle at Kinloch hold.” Amell nodded politely, offering a tired grimace, leaning slightly on his staff. Eleanor eyed him with reservation, then turned back to Duncan, saying.

            “My daughter helped me get here, Maker be praised.”

            “I am not surprised.” Duncan turned to Rose with a curt nod of approval. She met his eyes.

            “Thank you for saving my father.”

            “I fear your thanks are premature. I doubt I have saved him.” His face sad in the dim light. In the distance the began to hear heavy thuds. It sounded like Howe’s men were making an effort to breach the main gate. Eleanor let out a hiss of breath, and said fiercely.

            “Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick! They are coming!”

            “Duncan…I beg you…take my wife and daughter to safety!” Bryce was beginning to sink, pain on his face, gasping at every breath he took.

            “I will, your Lordship.” The Grey Warden nodded. He turned to look at Rose, “But…I fear I must ask for something in return.”

Rose’s mind raced as she slowly realized what he was asking of her. Grey Wardens were not supposed to take part in Thedas politics, except when a Blight. A King of Fereldan had exiled them from the country for that very reason, when the Warden-Commander had instigated a rebellion almost two ages past. Duncan could not afford to be seen to take sides in this conflict between nobles, even one as bloody as this. Stunned, she sat listening as Duncan spoke to her parents.

 “What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, returning his gaze to hers. “I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one.”

Rose saw her parents both start out of the corner of her eye, her father grunting at the pain the sudden movement caused. She felt their attention turn to her, felt the fear and worry in their gazes.

 “Are you talking about me?” Her voice sounded calm to her own ears, distant. It was more of a statement than a question.

“You fought your way through Howe’s men. I think the Maker’s intention is clear.” The Warden sank to his knees, reaching out to grasp the dying Teyrn Cousland’s free hand.

“I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the king what happened.” Rose looked past him, into her father’s grey eyes, they crinkled at the corners as a pained smile cross his face and he nodded briefly. Duncan turned backto her, face close, eyes unreadable in his weathered face.

“Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us.” There was a weight to his words, a seriousness that went beyond even the horror of their current situation.

“I accept your offer.” The words fell like heavy knives as she spoke them.

“We must leave quickly, then.” Duncan said, standing and bowing before stepping back to give Rose time to say farewell.

“Bryce…” Eleanor spoke softly, searching her husband’s eyes.

“Our daughter will not die of Howe’s treachery” Bryce reached out, holding Rose as she sunk next to him, burying her head in his chest. “She will live, and make her mark on the world.”

“Darling, go with Duncan.” Eleanor reached out and turned Rose’s face to hers, “You have a better chance to escape without me.”

“Eleanor…”

“Hush, Bryce. I’ll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won’t abandon you.” Eleanor’s voice was hard, the Seawolf ready to make her final stand.

Rose felt suddenly light, as if her world had fallen away and she was left to float through darkness, alone. The three Couslands sat together, heads bowed together, breathing in each other’s presence.

“I love you both, so much.” Rose cried, voice breaking.

“Then live, darling. Become a Grey Warden, and do what is right.” Eleanor smiled, touching Rose’s face, then lifted her to stand. Rose began to back away, towards escape and the two men waiting in silence, eyes never leaving the faces of her parents.

            “I’m…so sorry it’s come to this, my love...” Rose heard her father murmur, face grey in the shaft of moonlight that fell through the window. Eleanor knelt down next to him once more, a strange, soft smile on her face as she spoke.

            “We had a good life and did all we could. It’s up to our children, now.” Bryce grinned weakly back, then turned to watch Rosemary as she left. She heard his last words to her, and felt Duncan’s hand on her shoulder.

            “Go, pup. Warn your brother. And know that we love you both. You do us proud.” A crash reverberated throughout the castle, sounding to Rose like the final note of a death knell. She half heard Duncan behind her, pulling her down through the servant’s passage.

            “They’ve broken through the gates. We must go now.”

            “Goodbye, darling.” She heard her mother’s voice as if from far away, her last sight of her parents incandescent, surrounded in the strange soft glow of moonlight and smoke.


End file.
